I Often Wonder About Myself...
Sunday, November 11
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Women-at-Arms
*Take all American women who are within five years of menopause - train
us for a few weeks, outfit us with automatic weapons, grenades, gas masks,
moisturizer with SPF15, Prozac, hormones, chocolate, and canned tuna -
drop us (parachuted, preferably) across the landscape of Afghanistan, and
let us do what comes naturally.
Think about it. Our anger quotient alone, even when doing standard stuff
like grocery shopping and paying bills, is formidable enough to make
even armed men in turbans tremble.
We've had our children, we would gladly suffer or die to protect them
and their future. We'd like to get away from our husbands, if they
haven't left already. And for those of us who are single, the prospect
of finding a good man with whom to share life is about as likely as
being struck by lightning. We have nothing to lose.
We've survived the water diet, the protein diet, the carbohydrate diet,
and the grapefruit diet in gyms and saunas across America and never lost
a pound. We can easily survive months in the hostile terrain of
Afghanistan with no food at all!
We've spent years tracking down our husbands or lovers in bars, hardware
stores, or sporting events...finding bin Laden in some cave will be no
problem.
Uniting all the warring tribes of Afghanistan in a new government? Oh,
please ... we've planned the seating arrangements for in-laws and
extended families at Thanksgiving dinners for years ... we understand
tribal warfare.
Between us, we've divorced enough husbands to know every trick there is
for how they hide, launder, or cover up bank accounts and money sources.
We know how to find that money and we know how to seize it ... with or
without the government's help!
Let us go and fight. The Taliban hates women. Imagine their terror as we
crawl like ants with hot-flashes over their godforsaken terrain. I'm
going to write my Congresswoman. You should, too!*
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7:20 PM
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